


Spun Right Round

by Mochas N Mayhem (KoohiiCafe)



Category: Kingsman: The Secret Service (2015)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Homophobia, Implied Past Rape/Non-Con, Love Triangles, M/M, Past Abuse, Past Prostitution, Polyamory, Rentboy Eggsy, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, This is going to get very messy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-01-20
Updated: 2016-02-03
Packaged: 2018-05-15 03:09:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,666
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5769055
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KoohiiCafe/pseuds/Mochas%20N%20Mayhem
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Following your soul compass to find your soulmate was supposed to be some grand adventure, wonderful and life-altering, that would lead you to some amazing person who would be absolutely perfect for you, who would complete you and turn your life into some fantastic 'happily ever after.'</p><p>At least, that was the fairytale.</p><p>There was a reason Eggsy kept his compass covered at all times.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This story is inspired by the Soulmate Compass AU [here](http://alienjoyful.tumblr.com/post/134710941548/i-always-see-that-tumblr-post-where-people-talk). This story will get messy before it gets better, and will have some dark thoughts. I'll update the warning tags as new ones apply.

According to all the stories, all the greatest romances, all the books and movies and shows, finding and meeting your 'soulmate' was supposed to be the height of your life. Following your soul compass to find your soulmate was supposed to be some grand adventure, wonderful and life-altering, that would lead you to some amazing person who would be absolutely perfect for you, who would complete you and turn your life into some fantastic 'happily ever after.' Everyone was meant to find their soulmate, and everyone _would_ find their soulmate.

At least, that was the fairytale.

There was a reason there was an entire market dedicated to covering up one's soul compass.

For the rich, those with money to spare, to burn, there were countless choices. There where the highest quality concealers, make-ups that came in as many colors as there were skin tones, that could last for days, weeks, could withstand all but the toughest of cleansers before they washed off. There were bracelets, bangles, intricately designed and gorgeous cuffs that wrapped around the wrist just perfectly. There were even specialized services, procedures that boasted the ability to alter or completely _remove_ a soul compass, for the right price.

For those less well off?

A simple leather bracer wrapped around Eggsy's wrist, hiding a three inch wide section of pale skin that hadn't seen the light of day in the entirety of his memory. It was scuffed and scratched, rough at the edges, well worn from years of wear, molded to his wrist by time. It was the only thing of his personal effects he'd been allowed to keep after that first night in the dorms, the only thing he had left from his life in the estates, his life from before Harry Hart had swooped in and changed everything with three simple words. He'd been given a new bracer along with the standard issue recruit wardrobe, a smooth bracer of cool stainless steel meant to withstand the tasks they were to be put through over the course of their training, but wearing it hadn't been a requirement. He'd tucked the thing into the bottom of his chest, beneath spare sets of standard issue pajamas, and kept his familiar leather one instead, ignoring the warnings of what might happen to the less durable material if he continued to wear it.

"Why do you continue to wear that thing," Roxy had asked once, back in their first week of training. He'd shrugged lightly, the answer rolling off his lips carelessly, as if it meant nothing to him.

"Habit." He'd shrugged again then, adding, "It was a gift from me mum a long time ago. 'M just used to it anymore, that's all."

And if his mum had told him how it had been Lee's once, way back before he met Eggsy's mum, then what did it matter? What did it matter how sad she’d looked the day she strapped it to his wrist for him, how reverent she’d been when she leaned forward to kiss his forehead tenderly after. How she’d sworn him to secrecy about where he’d gotten it, because if Dean had ever figured out it had been Eggsy’s dad's, he’d’ve gone into one of his angry, drunken rages the way he did any time he was reminded Lee Unwin had existed once upon a time?

It _didn’t_ matter.

"Sides, you're one ta talk. How come you still use make-up on yours?" he’d continued, turning the question right back on her.

"Habit," she'd returned cheekily, and then Merlin's voice had echoed across the lawn, adding ten more laps to their run as punishment for their chitchat, and that had been that.

In truth, neither of them had to cover their marks at all. It wasn’t mandatory for the recruits, provided bracer or not, and some of the others displayed their compasses with pride, with swagger. Charlie especially liked to boast about his, kept telling and retelling about how he hadn’t even had to _try_ and find his soulmate, how his compass had simply pointed her out through the crowd at a gala his parents had thrown, bragged continuously about how gorgeous his soulmate was, and how he could tell exactly where she was and what she was doing from the point of the compass needle. And of the recruits who _did_ wear their bracers, none of them were particularly religious about it, often taking them off and leaving their arms bare around the dorm. None of them except he and Roxy, anyway.

He didn’t know Roxy’s story, didn’t know why she kept her compass under what had to be the costliest concealer he’d ever seen in his life, given how little she had to reapply it, at all times, refusing to let it be seen at any point. He hadn’t asked either, because asking about someone’s compass when they kept it covered just wasn’t something you did. He might’ve grown up in the estates, might be worlds behind every single other recruit in their etiquette training, but even Eggsy knew that much.

As for his own?

“When I ordered you to strip, Mr. Unwin, I did mean completely.”

There was a firm look being leveled at him by the doctor, with something like amused scolding mixed into the man’s tone, and Eggsy scoffed, his eyebrows jacking upwards, his answer immediate;

“If you think I got anything on under this thing, I want some of whatever you’ve had, bruv, cause I’m pretty sure I‘m completely starkers. My ass is hanging out for anyone to see everytime I move, ‘n I’m freezin’ in here.” And he _was_. It was a damn good thing Eggsy had no shame when it came to his body, because he knew exactly how fit he was, how good he looked, and it wasn’t as if privacy had ever been a thing he’d had. Not since he was a kid, not since his mum married Dean. Nah, he’d put his body on display in front of complete strangers more times than he could count, whether for pleasure or for other reasons, and add in his time with the marines, and even the dorm set up here? He’d take off the flimsy backless dress thing if he had to, he’d easily prove how completely he’d stripped, and-

“It’s not your clothing I was referring to,” the older man replied, his eyes dipping down, just to one side, and-

Oh.

 _Oh_.

 _Fuck_.

“No way.” The words were a swear, escaping him before he could cut them off, his eyes widening as he realized exactly what the man was asking of him, his head shaking side to side without a thought. _No way_. He wanted to see his-

“I’m afraid it’s required.” The amusement in the doctor’s tone was gone, replaced by a careful edge of something that was probably supposed to be soothing, considering what he was asking of Eggsy. His gaze didn’t waver as he continued, “We have to document any physical characteristic that could be used to identify you, just as a precaution. If anything were to happen to you…”

Right. Spy agency. Things happened to people here. People died, like the man they were training to replace now, Lancelot, whose body still hadn’t been found. Like his dad…

His eyes slid closed, his head dropping forward, as a slew of curses escaped, and he didn’t bother to try and bite them back. When the doctor didn’t comment, only waiting patiently, Eggsy figured he’d probably seen this before. There were plenty of people who didn’t like showing their soul compass, after all, no way he was the first. And hadn’t Roxy already had her physical, just earlier that morning? And come to think of it, she’d been pretty quiet when she got back, her face carefully guarded, brushing off Eggsy’s attempts at chatter before he’d had to leave himself.

Shit.

Slowly, without lifting his head, without opening his eyes, Eggsy reached for the strap that held his bracer in place. He didn’t look as he fumbled to get it open, didn’t look when it came free and the old leather parted and cool air breathed over the sensitive skin. He didn’t look as he slid the bracer off completely. He’d seen it before, didn’t need to see it again now, not with all the trouble the damn thing had caused him.

A shiver ran down his back at the exposure, and it was only partially because of how damn cold his wrist felt once bared from the warm embrace of leather. He could hear the doctor murmur something like approval, could hear the man step closer to the bed Eggsy was perched on the edge of, but he still startled, almost violently, when he felt a hand grasp at his right arm, just above where the bracer would have ended.

The man spoke then, his voice as careful as if he was dealing with some wild animal he half expected to attack him at a moment’s notice.

“I’m going to examine your wrist now, Mr. Unwin.”

A pause. As if-

“Yeah, fine,” he answered finally, spitting the words out. His entire body was tense, primed for flight- or fight- his lips sealing together as he braced and waited. He didn’t have to wait for long, not now that he’d verbally given his permission, and a moment later;

“You’re going to feel my hand run along the inside of your wrist, for just a moment.” The warning was even, but with barely a moment between it and the feel of smooth latex- when the hell had he put on gloves?- skimming the surface of his wrist, he still flinched. The man’s other hand kept its firm grip, holding Eggsy’s wrist in place as those fingers moved down, down-

He knew the _instant_ he’d reached the edge of the compass, because a feeling almost like electricity sped across his skin, stinging harshly. It didn't stop there, though, not by a long shot. Instead, as the man's fingers moved along the marked skin, they left a lingering pain behind, almost like a razor being dragged across dry skin. It was a feeling he was far too familiar with, a feeling he fucking _hated_ , and Eggsy clenched his jaw, gripped the edge of the sick bay bed beneath him hard enough to hurt, the edges of it digging painfully into his fingers. He _refused_ to let out the whine of pain that struggled up his throat, clamping it down with every single bit of willpower he had, because- he could handle this. It wasn’t the worst he’d ever felt, not by far, it was just- _fuck_ , it was just _invasive_. Handling someone else’s compass was like reaching out and touching their soul itself. _No one_ did it, not unless there were very specific circumstances involved, or unless they were _extremely_ close- or unless it was their soulmate’s compass they were touching. And Eggsy was damn well willing to bet the doctor wasn’t his soulmate.

But it wasn’t the first time his mark had been touched. He could handle this. He’d be fine. As soon as this was over, as soon as those damned fingers got the hell off his wrist.

“It’ll only be another moment, I promise.” There was a genuine apology in the man’s voice, and Eggsy tried to focus on that, tried to make himself actually _hear_ it, because as much as he’d had his compass handled and pawed at in the past, no one had ever _apologized_ for it. No, every time before it had always been about power and control, about taking it from him, about proving themselves above him and mocking him for the damn thing.

Then the fingers were pulling away, and _fuck_ , taking with them the cutting feeling of _wrongness_ that was someone else touching his soul mark, and he could breathe again, except-

“Bruv?” The doctor’s other hand was still holding his wrist firmly in place, the inside of it turned upwards to the man’s eyes. Slowly, warily, Eggsy cracked his eyes open, sliding his gaze up to the doctor without ever looking at his own wrist, and asked, “ya gonna let go any time soon?”

“I will, yes, in one moment. There’s one more thing I must do, and then you can put the bracer back on.” And fuck if the look on the doctor’s face didn’t guarantee that Eggsy wasn’t going to like whatever that ‘one more thing’ was. Bracing himself, he nodded, keeping his arm as still as he could.

“Just get it over with, yeah?”

The man nodded, and with a quiet order to keep his wrist just as it was, let him go and turned away, bustling to a side table quickly. Eggsy grimaced and rolled his head back, throwing his eyes to the ceiling. He just wanted this _done_ , so he could put his bracer back on and forget the whole damn thing. When the doctor stepped back over, something in his hand, the younger man kept his eyes trained up, waiting and-

 _Click_. That had been a very distinctive _click_. Like the shuttering click of a-

Startled, he jerked his head back down, and that was a fucking _camera_ in the doctor’s hand, aimed straight down at his wrist, at his soul compass, and,

“ _What the fuck_?”

“It’s for documentation, lad.”

Eggsy _jerked_ , roughly, and his free hand was flying, clamping down over his wrist to cover it as his head whipped around to see Merlin standing at the door. It was enough of a distraction for the doctor to shuffle away, camera in hand, taking with him a picture of the fucking compass that had made Eggsy’s life hell. His face screwed up, forgetting about the man for a moment, the full force of his focus on his trainer where he stood at just the wrong angle to actually get a look his wrist, even as exposed as it had been. That little fact didn’t do a damn thing to dampen the younger man’s anger, as he hunched over his wrist and reached for his bracer, blazing green eyes trained on the Scotsman as he fastened it into place blindly.

“Ain’t these physicals supposed to be _private_? What the fuck’re you doin’ in here then?” The words were sharp as a razor, barbs meant to sink into their target and sting, and his anger overrode what should’ve been his common sense when talking to the man responsible for his possible future. The man merely snorted in response, his own eyes narrowing just so, and answered;

“Any illusion you have of privacy while under my command is just that, Eggsy- an illusion. So long as you remain a recruit in this program, there’s not a single piece of you that I don’t hold full rights to see at any given time should I wish to, that I don’t _own_.”

Merlin’s tone wasn’t harsh, wasn’t cruel, only firm and commanding in that way the trainer had, demanding of attention and respect and obedience. It still sent a shudder down his spine, only experience letting Eggsy suppress his flinch at them, although he couldn’t help the bite in his own words when he growled;

“Respectfully, _sir_?” A pause, one hand holding tightly to his bracer, his gaze sheer defiance. “Ain’t _no one_ who owns me.”

“ _Oh_?” His voice was deeper then, something like danger lacing it as Merlin took a step full into the room, but Eggsy didn’t back down. He kept his gaze locked with the other man’s, his entire body and being buzzing with rebellion. Merlin met him head on, his own head tilting downwards to where he sat on the bed, and then his voice was _soft_ , and somehow that was more dangerous that before. “I’ll forgive yer attitude this once, lad, considering the circumstances, and what you just went through. Speak to me like that again and you’ll be running laps around the manor until ye’ve lost every single ounce of feeling in yer legs and you can’t even walk straight. Do we have an understanding?” It was Merlin who paused this time, barely a beat before adding, “If yer next words are anything other than ‘yes sir,’ yer going to be running those laps that much sooner, and more.”

It was through gritted teeth that Eggsy ground out, “ _yes sir_.”

“ _Good_.” A beat of silence, eyes still locked. Then Merlin was stepping back, calling to the doctor without looking away, “As soon as ye’ve finished his physical, Mr. Unwin is to report straight to the training room, where he will remain and work on his weights until I personally tell him otherwise. And please do see that his files are delivered to my desk before the evening’s over.”

And, eyes locked until the very end, Merlin smirked, stepped back, and turned and walked out, leaving him alone with the doctor once more.

 _Fuck_.


	2. Chapter 2

It was roughly an hour after Merlin had walked out of the sick bay that a message pinged across his monitor signalling the completion of Eggsy Unwin’s physical, and that the lad was being sent to the training center. Another hour passed, with a small window from the training room’s camera feed running on a side monitor, before a harried nurse hand delivered the doctor’s finished report of the physical, and before he called through the intercom to let the boy know he could move onto another exercise of his own choice. It was another half an hour after that when Merlin safely guided Bors back to the extraction point, minimized the knight’s feed, maximized Eggsy’s, and turned his full focus to the files now sitting neatly with the doctor’s report.

He kept half an eye on Eggsy as he read through all the official reports they had on the lad’s background. These he’d already looked through once, as he had with all the candidates’ backgrounds once they were submitted. Eggsy’s background, even, was the one he’d read most recently; Harry’s eternal tardiness meant he hadn’t gotten hold of the boy’s records until a few days after the flooding. There had been something, though, something in the way the boy’d held himself, the way he’d all but flinched as he spit out that ‘no one owned him,’ something in the set of his eyes as he glared defiantly, and it didn’t sit right with the older man. It made him wonder what on earth the boy had done in his past- or had done _to_ him- to cause that kind of reaction.

The official files were dry, distant, highlighting the story of a young man who’d taken a sudden turn from a promising track to go looking for trouble instead. The story of a boy with a troubled home life, and given the attack by the boy’s stepfather and the bruises that had been laid into his skin the night he’d brought Eggsy in, that didn’t surprise the wizard. Nor did it surprise him that the change in the lad’s lifestyle had come not even a year after Michelle Unwin had married the man. There were records of two trips to A &E for broken bones, one of them shortly after he’d quit gymnastics, but no others, which was also unsurprising. Far too often, and as had clearly been the case here, abuse of the kind Dean Baker was capable of went completely unreported, and often wounds were left untreated. The thought of it churned his stomach, and he took a moment to set the reports down, to stare quietly at Eggsy’s form on the camera feed, where the lad was swinging himself on the uneven bars.

He’d shed his siren suit and the button up normally worn underneath, opting for only a pair of standard issue shorts instead. The shorts and, of course, the leather band he’d replaced around his left wrist, covering once more his soul compass and whatever needle- or lack thereof- spun within it. Merlin’s eyes lingered on the bracer, wondering not what lie beneath it, but what had caused the young man’s vehement hatred of his own compass, for that’s what it was. One didn’t need to be a spy to notice the way Eggsy had refused to look at his own arm during the examination, and to know what it meant of the lad’s feelings.

He’d seen others who hid their compass diligently, who would do whatever it took to make sure no one else ever got a glimpse of it, before. Roxanne was another just within Eggsy’s cohort, and he himself had never been fond of leaving his own wrist exposed. It was rare, though, to see someone who wouldn’t even look at their own wrist, who wanted so desperately to forget what was written into their own skin by nature itself. Rare to see that kind of self-loathing.

Pulling his gaze from the boy’s sweaty, tired form as he worked stubbornly still at his weights, despite the almost two hours he’d been at it, the Scot set the files of Eggsy’s background aside to reach for the doctor’s report this time. The file was pinned closed, and when he opened it, he was greeted by several pages of typed report, plus a single folder sealed carefully with tape. The photo of the boy’s wrist. It would have been easy to slide a finger through the tape, to pop it open and take a look at the mark Eggsy worked so hard to hide, to try and discern what he could from the compass itself. He had every right to take a look, to use what he felt necessary to assess the recruit under his command. Privacy for a Kingsman recruit, indeed, even for a full Kingsman knight, was not an issue when it came to their handler, trainer, or commander.

Merlin wasn’t tempted in the slightest.

When an agent didn’t freely display their dominant wrist on a regular basis, the viewing of compass photos was used only as a last resort. It was rare that these folders had cause to be opened, and he could count on one hand how many times he had during the course of his time as Merlin. There was a reason he had made sure to remain just out of sight of the boy’s wrist when he’d looked in on the examination; he’d been there solely to check on Eggsy, knowing what he did of the lad’s dedication to keeping his wrist covered, not to invade his privacy. An intention, he thought with something of a grimace, he had not well communicated, not with the way he had flaunted his ‘rights’ as a trainer. Instead… he had fallen prey to his own temper when the lad let his attitude lead his tongue.

He had a flash of insight, that once he got home that evening, if indeed he _did_ get home, Harry would let him have it when he learned of the incident. He would deserve every word of it, too.

For the moment, that was neither here nor there. It did, however, give him a thought.

“Harry?” It took barely a second to open his private connection to his soulmate’s comm line, and hardly a second more for the man to answer.

“ _Don’t tell me._ ” The tone was half-amused, teasing. “ _You’re staying at the manor tonight?_ ”

“That I haven’t decided yet, but I just might if you keep that up,” he retorted with a snort, and something in the easy exchange eased the tightness in his chest a little.

“ _Keep what up, my dear? I’ve no idea what you mean, I’m not doing anything at all._ ”

_That_ earned a louder snort, a roll of his eyes, and an answer of; “The innocent role doesn’t suit you, Harry, it never has.”

“ _I could argue with you on that, but given past experience and your stubborn nature, we’d be at it for hours. I’d much rather have you home._ ” A pause followed, and Merlin could just _see_ the look in his lover’s eyes, even without a visual feed and a mirror. “ _To what do I owe the pleasure of your call, then, if not news on where you’ll be staying the night?_ ”

“I have something of a mission for you.”

“ _Has something changed concerning the good professor?_ ” And just like that, all teasing and joviality dropped, traded for business. It didn’t phase either of them.

“No, this isn’t connected to Professor Arnold, merely a side mission. It’s small enough you should be able to look into it before you confront the professor at the university.”

“ _I see. What exactly is this **side** mission_.”

“Recon. I need you to gather more information on yer proposal’s background.” And this- this would be where Harry would realize something was off, regardless of his even voice and tone. The brief pause there was, before the other man answered, was tell enough that yes, he did know something was off.

“ _You want more information on Eggsy’s background… and you want me to find it before I visit Imperial College tomorrow afternoon._ ” The words were slow, measured. The question sure to come right behind them. Merlin cut him off before he could give it voice.

“Aye. You can report whatever you find to me directly, once yer confrontation with the professor is over and Arthur has finished yer debriefing.” He paused briefly, long enough that he could hear his lover inhale to speak again, and added quickly, calmly; “I do believe I’ll be staying at the manor tonight. I’ll see ye in the morning, Harry. Good night.”

He had a thought for his own cowardice, even as he closed the connection, set his line to busy, and set all incoming contacts to be transferred to his inbox, but he didn’t allow himself to brood over it. A glance at the clock showed that Eggsy had been going for almost two and a half hours by this point, and Merlin knew well that the lad deserved a break.

He took the briefest moment, to scan the bare bones of the doctor’s report before stowing it and the boy’s records away, and turned to head out of his office to the training rooms. He had a recruit to see to.

* * *

“ _Eggsy_.”

The call was sharp, sudden, and clearly unexpected, given the way the boy started, one hand slipping from the handle of the pommel horse he’d moved to. On another night, he might have been amused, might have smirked and teased the lad about being more aware of his surroundings; after all, he _was_ in training to become a spy,was he not? Tonight, here and now, Merlin kept his face carefully neutral, letting one eyebrow raise as Eggsy recovered himself quickly, pushing from the horse to stand.

In person, rather than through the distant lense of a camera, it was clear the lad was exhausted and wrung out. Near three hours of training would do that to a person, especially right after going through a full physical that included an examination of one’s soul compass. It was also clear that the fight from before had gone out of him; worked out through the training, he was sure, used as fuel to push through it all.

“ _Sir_.”

Well. Not _all_ the fight gone, then, with the way the honorific was spat out with just enough force to remain on the right side of respect. God, the lad reminded him of his mentor at times, especially Harry in his early days- a similarity that was by no means accidental. Harry had seen it when he’d picked up the young man outside Holborn Police Station, when he’d taken the lad to the Black Prince and Eggsy had fought against the accusations flung at him. It had made the man immediately taken with Lee Unwin’s son, and it was what had prompted him to lay the bug on his shoulder. And yet, as much as the fire he carried was so much like Harry’s at times, it was also very much unique to the young Unwin, a spark to him that was like none other.

“Such energy left still. Perhaps I should come back in another hour or two?” He couldn’t help the slight upwards curl of his lips, an edge of teasing creeping into his tone despite himself. Those lovely green eyes squinted up at him, as if trying to decide whether he was serious.

“I’d say ya wouldn’t,” came the answer a long moment later, Eggsy’s voice a tired shade of cocky, “but ya might see that as a challenge.”

“I’d say you were wise to hold yer tongue, but that might end up feedin’ yer ego a little too much,” he replied, smirking just a little more.

The comment got a snort and something that looked almost like a smile from the lad, as even exhausted as he was, and it loosened just a little more of the unease still lingering in his chest. He took another moment, to meet those green, green eyes, before he asked carefully; “How are you feeling?”

Eggsy breathed in slowly- and it didn’t escape Merlin’s notice that he shifted his left arm subtly, letting the leather of his bracer rub over the material of his shorts- and answered, his tone an attempt at cocksurety that the older man didn’t believe for a second, “‘M fine.” A pause, another breath, and then a better facade, a stronger tone, the boy packing himself back behind a confident mask, “I’m alright, really. A bit tired, but I’ve been in here for how long now? Not everyone could do that, ya know, just keep goin’ an’ goin’.”

Merlin sighed inwardly, his lips just barely thinning. Yes, Eggsy was far too much like his mentor in some ways. He nodded and, seemingly ignoring the lad’s ego, ordered, “Cool down, shower, and it’s back to the dorm with you. Ye’ve got a long day of training ahead of you tomorrow,” and he left him to his stretches.

* * *

The rest of the night, once he’d made sure that Eggsy had made it to the recruit quarters, passed in something of a blur that consisted of burying himself in his own version of the ‘side mission’ he’d given Harry. Hours stretched into a new morning, marked only by empty mugs littering his desks as he went through all the coffee and tea his techs could bring him, his mind fully focused on delving through the cyber world for any information on Gary ‘Eggsy’ Unwin that might have been missed in the official records. He trawled through records on anyone who’d had significant contact with the lad, from school teachers to his gymnastic coach, to his noted friends and _their_ families. Whatever he found he then set aside, to pour over later, and moved on to the next subject.

Then morning stretched into afternoon, and research was put aside for sending the recruits for some training, doling out missions to handlers, and touching base with Bors after the previous night’s extraction. He checked in with Arthur briefly afterward and then, just as Harry reported in for his own mission, headed out to turn his attention to the recruits. If the only exchange he managed with Harry was a quick nod of his head and a brief smile before he left Arthur’s office, then that was simply the way of things.

If that was something he deeply regretted a few hours later, when an explosion rocked Imperial College and an extraction team was rushing out to rescue a fallen knight… that was his own business.


	3. Chapter 3

When he dropped onto his bunk in the recruit quarters, it was with a bone weariness that was more than just the physical ache of hours spent training. It was more than the unsettling wrongness of his physical, of having had someone else’s hands where no one else should ever touch. It was… fuck if he knew what it was, fuck if he wanted to even pin it down and put it to words. He was too tired, too worn, and he felt out of place in his own skin. Like it wasn’t his skin at all, like he’d been taken from himself and shoved into some stranger’s skin instead. He felt- disconnected.

As he laid where he’d fallen, unmoving and turned to one side, eyes closed tightly, one arm curled into his chest unconsciously, he could _feel_ eyes on him. Not just the prying eyes of the posh prats across the room, either, but closer. Right behind him. Without moving, and with a long, low groan, he tried to cut her off.

“Not now, Rox. ‘M too tired, just wanna sleep.”

It was futile, of course. He could hear her moving, a soft rustle that came closer, and he knew she was pushing off her own bunk and crossing the short distance to his. He knew what she was going to do before her hand hesitated above his arm, hovering long enough that she knew he knew, and she knew that he wouldn’t push her away. He was right, too, because the thin mattress was dipping behind him, and there was a warm hand laid on his arm, a warm body not quite touching his back where she’d sat on the edge of the bunk. He groaned again and, in direct contradiction to his protest, leaned back to press his back against her. He reached up with his other hand, the one he’d had all curled up, and laid it on top of her smaller one. The worn feel of leather that brushed his arm when he did so, his covered wrist laid against the bare skin there, was almost comforting. Almost.

“Where have you been?” Her voice was soft, low enough that the idiots across the way wouldn’t hear, a weird mix of firmness and concern that was just _her_. “It doesn’t take four hours for a physical, you know.”

“Yeah, yeah,” was his answer, a grimace twisting his face. With a sigh, and knowing well enough already that his friend wasn’t going to be put off ( _they might only have known each other for a couple weeks, but fuck, what a couple weeks it had been_ ), he rolled onto his back, still keeping his side pressed lightly to hers, and opened his eyes to look up at her. His face was still scrunched up when he told her, “I mouthed off ta Merlin.”

“ _Ah_.” Her hand had shifted when he turned over, and it laid against his shoulder, her thumb rubbing lightly back and forth over the cotton of his nightshirt as she rolled her eyes. “You mouthed off to Merlin,” she echoed back, the corners of her lips quirking up in something like a smirk. “At your physical. How on _earth_ did you manage that?”

“Don’t ask,” he scowled, brow furrowing at the memory, and the soft rub of her thumb felt off, like he was feeling it secondhand. Everything felt off.

“Only you.” There was a laugh in her words, but it didn’t hide the look in her eyes, the crinkle at the corners of them that meant she was worried and trying not to let him see. Then her head titled, her eyebrows cocking, and her voice was a lie of amusement as she teased; “Let me guess. It earned you training time?”

“Three fuckin’ hours of it,” he grumbled, and he tried to focus on that. If he could just be annoyed at the whole damn thing, maybe he’d be too annoyed to feel so _off_. “Sadistic prick.”

This time, her laugh was a little more real, even if it still carefully overlaid her concern.

“You do realize this entire room is bugged, don’t you?”

“Yeah?” He mustered a smirk as best he could- a rather real looking one, he thought- and pushed himself up on one elbow. Zeroing his eyes in on the one way mirror at the end of the room, the one that had been replaced freakily fast after the flood, he called loudly; “ _Sadistic prick_!”

As he flopped back down to the mattress, his grin turned almost genuine when Roxy giggled, and this time her laugh _was_ real. Good. The less she worried about him, the more he could forget the entire thing and just go back to being himself. It was easier to convince himself everything was fine when he didn’t have to convince someone else too. Anyway, it had felt good to yell out the insult, even if, somewhere in the back of his head, he knew that wasn’t what it was. Part of him knew he probably deserved every second of the punishment, that it wasn’t just Merlin being a dick- but he wasn’t about to admit it out loud.

And speaking of dicks-

“Don’t tell me,” Self Important Dickhead #1, usually known as Charlie, drawled slowly, smirking. “I know what’s happened. Eggy’s developed a case of Tourettes that involves shouting obscenities into thin air for no reason.”

“Ah, yes,” Self Important Dickhead #2, or Digby to everyone but he and Roxy, sniggered. “We should have known it was coming; he does curse rather a lot, doesn’t he, our _Eggy_.”

“ _I ain’t yours_ ,” he growled, pushing up abruptly onto both elbows, and it was harsher than he’d meant it to be, angrier. Roxy tensed beside him, and the hand on his shoulder gave a light squeeze, and _fuck_. She was giving him that look again. The worried one, the one he’d just managed to get wiped off her face. He grimaced again and shot off, “so you can just fuck right back over to your side of the room before I-”

He was interrupted then, before he could get the rest of the threat to be out, because there was suddenly a tiny wriggling mass of pug climbing onto his chest, apparently woken from his bedside nap by the commotion. It was the best distraction he could have asked for, because JB was whining, little claws hooking into the cotton of his nightshirt to pull himself up; without hesitation Eggsy reached for him with one hand, pulling him up to support and cradle him in his arm, his attention completely on the puppy now.

He could feel the second squeeze Roxy gave to his shoulder before she stood, could hear her telling Dickheads 1 & 2 off for making fun of disability and cursing up a streak herself, but it was distant, and didn’t really matter. What mattered was his dog, and pushing himself into a full sitting position, his back against the wall as JB snuffled and huffed and tried to pull himself further up Eggsy’s chest. His eyes slid closed and he wrapped both arms around the pug, tilted his head to lean it against JB’s, and things started to feel… not right, not completely, but not so _wrong_ anymore.

He didn’t know how long he stayed like that, the puppy oddly content to just lie there, only licking at his face every so often, but the next thing he registered after was his friend’s hand on his shoulder again.

“Get some rest, Eggsy.” Her voice was soft, and when he looked up and around, he realized most of the others had already gone to bed, the room dimmed,personal lights already flicked off. “Merlin won’t go easy on you tomorrow simply because you had extra training tonight. You know him; if anything, he might go _harder_ on you.”

“Yeah.”

She nodded when he sighed out the answer, gave him a tight smile, and turned back to her own bed to crawl between her sheets. Eggsy looked back down at JB, scratched the top of his head a little, and told him, “Alright. Bed for you ‘n me both,” before shifting to set him down at the foot of the bed and crawl under the covers himself. He was curled on his side, left arm held to his chest, when sleep took him moments later.

**Author's Note:**

> If you're on tumblr, you can find me at [MakethWoman](http://makethwoman.tumblr.com)!


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